Sexual Harassment
by SpiritBearr
Summary: Five times Mr. Spock falls prey to it, and Bones and Jim find it entirely too funny. And one time it’s just not. 'T' to be safe, but so far, pretty clean.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Sexual Harassment**

**Rating: T**

**Disclaimer: You know, it could really give me a complex, having to admit that I don't own them over and over again.**

**Summary: Five times Mr. Spock falls prey to it, and Bones and Jim find it entirely too funny. And one time it's just _not_.**

**A/N I had to do one. I LOVE five + one fics, for some reason, and I think I'm going to start doing a few. This is my first one and I'm a touch nervous, but excited. I do hope you all enjoy. ^^**

**ALSO: NOT DEAD. I'm having a bit of writer's block when it comes to Hero Complex, and I'm also working on fifteen things at once. Also, my library JUST STOPPED blocking the Log In option for , and I duno how long that will last. :/ But here, have a tide me over in the form of THIS.**

**Sexual Harassment**

**

* * *

  
**

1. The first time it happens, he is almost as surprised at the reaction of his companions as he is the situation itself.

They are on a planet new to the Federation, playing the good diplomats, celebrating negotiations gone beautifully (and, privately, the crew of the _Enterprise_ is also celebrating getting through a first contact and diplomatic negotiations without any injuries or deaths.)

There is food (some of which seems to still be moving, disturbingly) and alcohol and the alien race themselves-slender, lizard like beings that stand no taller then Spock's hip and change color with their mood-are signing and dancing and playing a variety of instruments.

The general mood is one of contentment and happy camaraderie. Spock, Jim, and McCoy have stayed rather close together for the most part, though not really _intentionally_- and at one point, Jim had joined the dancers with Uhura, spinning her in the laughing, whirling dance that they didn't really know the steps to but had fun trying, tripping over each other while the small aliens had glowed merry shades of pink and yellows and laughed with them. It had been entertaining to watch, all the more so with McCoy's good-natured heckling from Spock's left.

They'd spent more time whirling around and stepping all over each other then actually dancing, but the entire room had still burst into applause when the song finished, prompting outrageous bows before they'd returned to their tables, Jim still chuckling.

As illogical as it all is, it is quite worth it to see the rare, glowing smiles on the faces of both Jim and doctor McCoy. This is a rare occurrence; and it is even more rare when the crew is able to relax and enjoy themselves.

"No more from the peanut gallery," Jim is saying now, pointing a finger at McCoy, who swats at it. Jim jerks back and aims for McCoy's head, who bats it away again, and within moments they are swatting childishly at each other, grinning broadly. Spock lift a brow, thankful only that he's not in the middle of them any longer-there is no doubt in his mind they'd be doing this over the top of his head.

He turns to scold them both, but before the words of _overgrown children _can escape his mouth, there is a tug at his pants. He glances down- all three of them glance down- at the small lizard woman who is glowing bright, almost-neon pink with what he can assume is embarrassment, She is really rather attractive, for her race- she is slender and delicate, and her hair is, much like his own, fine, soft-looking, very straight, and very black. It hangs almost to the floor, and is a sharp contrast of the pink of her scales. Her tail is long and whip-like, her body utterly lizard like but for the build, which is humanoid, and her skin, which is only scaled in places; along her muzzle, her arms, legs, and tail.

"Would you like to dance?" She asks, softly. They are a highly intelligent race of people, and able to mentally translate from their own language into almost any other they hear almost instantly. Still, her voice is thickly accented- her 'dance' comes out hissed.

He blinks, startled- his first impulse is, of course, to respectfully decline. But to his left, McCoy is leaning close, that good natured smirk on his face. "Not like you have to get out there and hop around like an idiot like this jumpin' bean and his enablers." He drawls, prompting Uhura to stick her tongue out at him, close enough to hear at her own table. It seems the mood is contagious, and Spock is the only one who has not regressed to approximately ten years old mentally. "Just one little dance." Nevermind that she is half his height.

"Doctor-" He shrugs off the playful touch, and is surprised that the lack of the comparative cool of McCoy's hand through his uniform and the wave of light, happy emotions actually leaves him feeling a bit adrift. Apparently, he's gotten accustomed to the touch of his companions.

He turns to address the little alien, but she's peering up at him with wide, dark eyes, and he finds himself acquiescing. He allows himself to be steered into the middle of the wide room, and, blessedly, there is enough room for them all; there are no accidental brushes, no uncomfortable crowding, and she respectfully keeps her touch on his hips, where cloth muffles any contact telepathy.

Afterwards, he tries to make his way back to the table with his companions, only to find his sleeve captured, this time. She stands on tip-toe, and when he bends, obligingly, she whispers something in his ear that turns the tips of his pointed appendages a deep green and quickly has him pulling back from her, where she stands, innocently watching him.

"I am-" He stops, clearing his throat slightly and willing his body to _calm down _and biting back on the all-too-human urge to back away with his hands raised until he is back at the relative safety of his table. "I am….flattered….by the offer, T'el'na-" He manages not to mangle her name, but then again, he is Vulcan, and therefore used to wrapping his mouth around words most humans couldn't spell, let alone say properly, names included. "but I must decline." There are eyes on him. He can feel them, burning holes into his back.

He does not need to look to know who it is.

She pouts up at him. "Are you certain, Mr. Spock?" She asks, the soft, hissing syllables of each word nothing on the emphasis she gives his own name. "You are quite exotic, compared to the rest of your party. I have not seen one like you before."

A hand lands on his shoulder- Jim, undeniably, he knows it before the hand even makes full contact, can feel, can _sense_ the storm and heat that is James Kirk the moment he comes up behind. Jim's always been like that; a palpable force against the strongest of Spock's shields, and an open book in any telepathic contact, hiding very little.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Spock?" He asks, jovially enough, and there is laughter in his eyes, hidden but Spock can feel it clearly.

"Not at all, Captain." He says quietly.

"Only a misunderstanding, Captain Kirk." The young alien bows slightly. "Mr. Spock did not, it seems, understand the direction my intentions took." Unrepentant and blatant, and from somewhere behind them McCoy is snickering.

"My apologies." Spock replies, but she waves him off good-naturedly enough.

"Mine as well." She says warmly, and they go their separate ways. However, before they leave the planet, when they are standing waiting to be beamed up, she approaches again, from the group of the planet's populace seeing them off.

"I was informed further about your race," She whispers to him, "and I apologize again for the misunderstanding. But you only go into a _mating cycle_ once every seven years, perhaps-" The rest of what she's going to say is cut off by an older member of her race dragging her backwards.

The last thing he hears before the tingle of the transporter beam takes him is Jim's laughter.

McCoy doesn't stop teasing Spock over it for _weeks. _


	2. Chapter 2

2. The second time is significantly less awkward, and significantly more consenting on Spock's part. They have taken aboard their ship the last of a surviving race called the _Nek'ham_, a humanoid race primarily; the main, physical difference was that they sport cat-like features. Long, nearly prehensile tails, furry, mobile ears perched on top of the head, claws, fangs, slit pupils.

Spock knows, for a _fact_, that Captain James Tiberius Kirk has bedded no less then two of the women of this race in the four weeks they've been aboard (once simultaneously) and seems quiet pleased with himself over it; even though Spock is one of the few that have realized _why_ Jim seems so very smug (most of the bridge crew realize it, too, but they are the only ones that know Jim well enough to know what the lazy, boneless way he sits in his chair and the look of tired amusement on his face means.) The _Nek'ham_ are a very open, sensual people, however, and if there is any problem due to the escapades, they are unaware of it.

The problem comes in the form of Spock himself.

Vulcans are the opposite of the _Nek'ham_ in almost every way imaginable; and instantly the _Nek'ham_ Ambassador's daughter (the last survivor of her line) takes a curious interest in him because of it. She loves to touch, and she, like her entire race, is as tactile and physically communicative as Jim. He does not like to be touched, and shies away from even the slightest of encounters from most other living beings unless he initializes it.

She spends the rest of the time she is aboard the ship chasing him like-if one will excuse the pun- a cat chasing a mouse.

The captain finds the whole thing hilarious. He is, of course, polite and subtle in his humor; he is not fool enough to laugh in the face of a woman who is now, technically, the Ambassador of a endangered race. But when she saunters- and there is, truthfully, no other word for it- onto the bridge at least once during his shift to lean over his station with the pretense of interest in the goings on of the science station, tail constantly, _constantly_ wrapping around his ankles and legs and more then once tapping him playfully on the behind ("Oh dear, I apologize, _Mr_. Spock! I did not realize you were _so close_." while moving even _closer_) Jim's golden eyes dance with private amusement, and he has to cover a smile as if tired or thinking.

The problem comes in the fact that Spock is not, entirely, disagreeable to her intentions.

Vulcans enter _Ponn Farr_ once every seven years. That does not meant that for a Vulcan to feel sexual attraction they _must_ be in Ponn Farr, which is a misconception that is startlingly common, even among those who do not know of the cycle itself, precisely, only that his race supposedly does not feel attraction as others do.

Spock is, as all his race are, better at _controlling_ those urges, those desires, better at not giving into them, even not feeling them if he truly has a reason not to _want_ to. He is not only capable of appreciating beauty, he is fully capable of desiring it, and acting upon those desires.

And she is rather strikingly beautiful.

Spock acts.

He will never understand how the doctor figures out that he has. He does not give himself away as Jim does; he is not late for shift; he does not react to the woman's flirting and inappropriate proximity on the bridge; there is _nothing_ to alert doctor McCoy to the fact.

Yet somehow he knows. And he shares it with the captain, who spends the next five minutes grinning much like a young boy with a secret. Yet Jim has a sense of propriety and is, above all things, a starship captain currently on duty.

It is only later that evening, when Jim and himself are engaged in their usual game of chess that Doctor McCoy joins them in the captain's quarters with tea for Spock (a thoughtful gesture partly born of friendship and partly, Spock thinks, as a way to assure Spock that the inevitable trial he is about to go through is not meant to genuinely antagonize) and something a touch _stronger_ for his human companions. (Spock knows them well enough to know they do not intend to 'get drunk') and makes a comment about Spock's feline-ape ancestors and the _Nek'ham's feline blood, and if he's certain there's not a litter of pointy-eared kittens on the way that Jim looses his demeanor, quietly and helplessly, into his hands. _

_Spock replies, somewhat haughtily, that there is an equal chance of this as there is of a litter of blonde-haired, amber eyed kittens, but Jim only laughs harder, and raises his glass in slightly abashed acknowledgement. _


	3. Chapter 3

3. If he was human, he would say he would be _annoyed_ to find it happens yet again, on Earth this time, if it wasn't so darn _cute_. And the aggressor is not someone he would ever consider, endearing though it may be. (Even Spock can admit to being charmed.)

It is shore leave, and of course, the _Enterprise's_ primarily human crew is delighted to find they are able to take it at _home_. Jim is fiercely apologetic towards Spock-needlessly- and-still needlessly-offers to find _some_ way to get Spock to Vulcan for their four weeks of shore leave while the _Enterprise_ undergoes some repairs and some cleanup from their misadventures. Spock- again, if he were human-would say he was touched by the gesture, but assures Jim there is no cause to do so, he is quiet content to entertain himself on Earth. He has, after all, been there before, for some time, and relatively comfortable there, all things taken into consideration.

In the end, he discovers that McCoy and Jim intend to spend the time together themselves- Jim has some grand secret that he is being horribly bad at hiding and being patient about, a surprise for McCoy, and decides that Spock should tag along.

"You don't have anywhere better to be, do you, Spock?" He asks, and Spock must admit that no, he has no plans nor companions he intends to meet with while here, and doctor McCoy has no complaints to his presence (besides his obligatory growls).

McCoy's daughter, Joanna, is waiting for them when they get to earth, and Spock is treated to a side of him that Jim has seen on occasion but Spock is new to- he grins broadly, honestly, and drops to his knees, arms open wide, gathering the eight year old in his arms as she runs to him with an ear-splitting squeal of _"Daddy!"_ Then, minutes later, "Hi, Uncle Jim, hihihi!" As Jim scoops her up and spins her around dizzily. She instantly goes shy when she sees Spock, ducking behind her father's legs, but McCoy pushes her forward gently. "This is Mr. Spock." He tells her gently, and his accent is thicker then Spock believes he has ever heard. "He's your daddy and Uncle Jim's friend."

Spock wonders if he has ever heard McCoy call him _friend_ openly before. Interesting.

"Why does he have funny ears?" She whispers in the way of all children, which is not a whisper at all but a spittle-laden hiss more then loud enough for anyone near to hear. McCoy snickers, tries not to. "He's a Vulcan, Jo. To him _your_ ears are funny." And he tweaks one, which makes her giggle and squirm.

That is the last Joanna McCoy has to say on the subject, and the shore leave passes quite peacefully. The three men and little girl enjoy each other for the most part- there are a few tense moments, but nothing explosive- but Spock becomes increasingly aware of the fact that Joanna has an absolute _fascination_ with him. She spends every waking moment she's not with her father or Jim with _him_- she's constantly dragging him off to see a new toy, or the dress her daddy bought her; once they get to McCoy's small ranch home, she's a bouncing ball of enthusiasm to find a place to take them all for a horseback ride and once they do, stays right at the flank of Spock's horse and _will not_ be silent. She's fond of dragging him behind her by the sleeve, and Jim makes more then one comment about it looking like a Chihuahua ordering around a pit bull. But then, Joanna seems to have that ability with _all_ of them; reducing the crew of the _Enterprise_ to big puppy dogs.

It is the day before they are meant to return to space that it happens.

Joanna is giving Jim and her father big good-bye hugs and kisses, while her mother waits in a vehicle in the background. When she gets around to Spock, she flings her arms around his neck. He permits it; she's a child, and therefore all he gets from physical contact is a general sense of affection and playful sweetness, and it's subtle and young enough that it's not unpleasant. But he _does_ see her fierce blush when she pulls back, and suddenly she reaches up to touch the shell of his ear, eyes widening as if she expects it to twitch or move under the touch- then she squeals, shoves a piece of paper in his hands, and runs. While her touch is not painful, the sound is, and he absently brings one hand to his sensitive ear, giving his head a little shake. Jim shoots him an amused look, watching where McCoy and Joanna are, a few feet away, saying soft goodbyes.

"He really misses her." Jim muses softly, his golden eyes far away. "Sometimes, I wonder…." But he lets his voice trail off, turns back to Spock and in an instant the insecurity and sadness that has no place on Jim's face- least of all when they _both_ know that McCoy would not give up his place at Jim's side no matter _how_ much he snarls- is gone. "What do you have there?"

Spock glances down at the folded paper in his hands. "Joanna gave it to me." He says, which is not an answer. He _knows_ it is not an answer; and Jim continues to watch him until he opens it.

'Dear mister Spock', it reads, though spelt not quiet as well as all that. 'Thank you very much for coming to spend time with my pappa and uncle Jim. I had a lot of fun with you. You have pretty ears and pretty hair, and when I am older I will come be on the ship with you and you can be my husband.'

And there is a drawing of exactly that; of all of them as stick figures, on what must be the _Enterprise_-or some spaceship, anyway- with Jim (a stick figure scribbled gold) 'marrying' himself and a taller Joanna, with McCoy off to her right.

His ears burn green, and no amount of Vulcan control can make them stop.

Especially not when Jim snatches it away from him like a child. He's always like this on Shore Leave, playful and frisky and mischievous, taking every moment he does not have to be Captain and using it to the fullest.

There is a brief wrestling match, which Spock will later deny ever being a part of, and with his superior height and strength he could easily have won. But Jim is not afraid to fight dirty, _knows how_ to fight dirty, and when he slips from _trained combat_- which he is skilled at, as well- to '_street fighting_' it's nothing Spock is prepared for and within minutes Jim is triumphantly dancing backwards with the paper in hand while Spock shakes out a rather viciously twisted wrist.

Entirely unnecessary.

Jim's laughter is throaty and deep, and it continues when McCoy returns; he shows the paper over (Spock doesn't even bother trying to intercept it) and soon the doctor is laughing, too. The sound mingles with Jim's, a sharply contrasting harmony, and Spock tolerates it because if he's being perfectly honest with himself their laughter is one of his favorite sounds.

"Seems my Jo got herself a little bit of a crush." McCoy chuckles, when he can speak again. "Can't imagine why- thought she had more common sense then that."

"Seems to be the ears." Jim quips, and when he looks over at Spock there is something he can't put his finger on glittering in the golden hazel eyes.

Later, on the ship, over the usual chess game, Jim speaks. "It's usually rough for him, having to leave her again." He says quietly. "That helped. Thanks for being a good sport." He glances up, daring Spock to make a comment on the colloquialism, but Spock is quiet, watching with patient eyes. "My tolerance of your antics?…."

"It made him laugh." Jim shrugs. "Never an easy trick. Especially then. Hey," He says then, with a laugh, "I noticed earlies you kept the love-letter."

"It was not a love-letter, Jim."

He only smirks. "You still kept it. No _logic_ in that, is there?" He's teasing, the words are gentle, and so Spock does not bristle.

"Indeed there is. If Joanna is ever allowed visitation on the _Enterprise_, which is known to occur on starships when situations permit it, and she realizes I have discarded the note, she will be displeased and unpleasant to have around. Furthermore, there is no reason to throw away a gift given in friendship."

"You didn't want to hurt her," Jim says, but his voice is gentle, eyes warm, and Spock can not, once again bristle at the words. "Or him." He adds, even more gently, even more softly. "You had to know Bones'd find out somehow if you got rid of it; and even if he didn't, you didn't want to chance it." He's grinning impishly, but Spock doesn't look away; holds his eyes are the smile gentles, softens around the edges.

"You're a good brother, Spock." He says, and when the eyebrow arches skyward, he simply chuckles and goes back to the game.__


	4. Chapter 4

4. "I don't know what to say, Spock. It just seems taken with you, that's all."

"Doctor, need I remind you that the object currently attached to my leg is a _plant_, and therefore incapable of becoming enamored with anything?"

"An _alien_ plant, Spock, Lord only knows how sentient it is. Look, just give Sulu time, he'll get her off of you. Eventually. At least, I hope it's a _her_-"

"_Bones_."

"What? It's a _plant_, does it even have a gen-_whoa_!"

"…."

"Spock? You okay?"

"I do not believe insulting my floral paramour any further to be a wise course of action, doctor."

"Or getting within ten feet of Spock."

"Apparently it can _hear me_."

"And is quite sensitive."

"Spock, you're bleeding. Look here, now, you're _hurting_ him-"

"Hey, it listened."

"Logical. If it is fond of me, then it's wish would not be to cause pain."

"Does someone want to finally take time out to tell me why, exactly, my first officer is thoroughly entwined in a sentient plant?"

"Jim, think for a minute about what ship you're serving on the the _numerous impossible situations_ we wind up in, and then ask yourself; do you _really_ need to ask?"

"…..Well when you put it that way, Bones, but I can't very well log 'It's the _Enterprise_, what else do you expect?' to Starfleet, can I?"

"Jim, I don't think they'd be _surprised_."

"…..Is it….._purring_?"

"Captain, a plant does not-"

"No, Spock, listen, it's _purring_, like the Tribbles did. Same sound."

"Similar, anyway, Captain, I must agree."

"And it seems to be trying to mark you."

"…..least it can't p-"

"….."

"….."

"….."

"Did it seriously just scent-mark you? With…._pollen_?"

"It seems so."

"It smells like-"

"_Don't_, Jim."

"Well, it does."

"Where is _Sulu_?"

"Perhaps his presence is unnecessary, captain. She responded to doctor McCoy's warning about causing me pain, perhaps-"

"We've already tried to talk it into letting you go-"

"Bad idea, it's tightening up again."

"_Thank you_, Jim, for pointing that out. You're really being very helpful right now."

"I was helpful, earlier, when we got the brilliant idea to manually remove him. And all _that_ got us were some deep scratches and one broken finger. I was also helpful when I ordered Sulu to figure out how to remove the plant without more of the same. I'm out of helpful."

"Gentlemen, I would appreciate either an end to the current topic or immediate removal of the creature. She has found her way to…..more sensitive areas of my anatomy and as such I'd appreciate her staying calm."

"More sen-oh _Lord_, Spock, is it down your _pants_?"

"It would seem so."

"It's in your _pants_?"

"We have established that fact, doctor."

"…..James Kirk, this is _not_ funny."


End file.
